The Chance to Live
by Phantomluvr
Summary: Alternate ending to Down Once More. Mostly 2004 moviebased, some Leroux influence. Please be kind, this is my first fic. And please REVIEW! EC, RM now unlikely. T rated for a little violence and fluff
1. Twisted Every Way

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or any of the characters connected with it. I might be able to say I own the basic scenario, but DJ and Jenna from the message board might contest that, so I won't. This is simply a biproduct of my rather weird mind.

This story is based off the movie, but it has (or is going to have) some Leroux influence, like the managers names and all that good stuff. No Persian, though, at least not yet. But Daroga might show up later.

Erik is played by his wonderful hotness, Gerry Butler. The Phantom for all intensive purposes is also around the age of 27. I personally thought it was kind of weird for Erik to go after a girl _sooo _younger than him, so i decided to change it.

Raoul-liking is frowned upon, unless your name is Meg Giry. She's allowed to like him. And there will be some Raoul-bashing, don't say I didn't warn you! But most of it is done by Erik or possibly Christine, though I like to poke fun at him too. evil grin

This is my first fic, please be merciful in your reviews! But please, more than that, REVIEW! I need support and Kodu, if you ever show up on here, you have first dibs on being my beta.

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**Twisted Every Way**

"_Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair. Down we plunge toward the prison of my mind. Down that path into darkness deep as Hell!_

"_Why, you ask, was I bound and chained to this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but for the wickedness of my abhorrent face!"_

Christine glanced furtively behind her as Erik roughly pulled her along, hoping and praying no one was following them. "Erik, let go, you're hurting me!"

He loosened his grip on her wrist, realizing the stress of the past few moments had made him overly forceful in his hold, but still continued his swift pace.

"_Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere, no kind word from anyone, no compassion anywhere. Christine…Christine…why? WHY?"_

Erik held her in front of him and looked into her eyes, his own pleading for love, or even simply the acceptance he had been denied for so long. As he stood there, his shoulders shook with all the pain he had been forced to endure, and his eyes glistened with the unshed tears from the past, the present, and the thought of what his future could be.

"Oh, Erik…" Christine hated seeing the pain in his eyes, the needless suffering. "Erik…"

XXXXX

As Raoul made his way down the stone spiral staircase, he managed to do anything _but _keep his hand at eye-level. He was too distracted; what that man--no, demon! -- might do to his beloved consumed his mind. Swirling thoughts of what might be happening even as he descended, plots to kill the Phantom, and ways to free Christine clouded his thinking so much that he didn't notice a rather large trap door below his feet until it was far too late. He suddenly plunged into a tank of icy water, complete with a steadily descending grate that foretold the demise of any who had the misfortune to see the underside of it.

Frantically, Raoul looked around, trying to find a way out. The door in the side of the wall was much too obvious, it wouldn't do at all. As the grate came only feet above him, he dove under and swam to a wheel that controlled the trap. His desperation mounted as the grate closed in, now mere inches from the water. As Raoul felt himself running out of air and life, Christine's face flashed before his eyes, and his resolve returned. With this, strength surged into his arms and he gave the wheel a final, desperate shove. The trap reversed itself and Raoul climbed out using the handy door in the side of the wall, exhausted but anxious to find his betrothed.

XXXXX

As Christine finished changing she straightened the dress hoping its beauty would make up for her tramp-like appearance. She had changed into it, relieved to get out of the way-too-tight Don Juan costume, especially since the costume had gotten wet. Then she turned back to the mirror, looking at her face. "Oh _why_ couldn't I have kept those tears in? Erik would never think that they were for his own suffering rather for my loathing of his face. That infernal self-image of his!" she thought wryly. Slowly she came out of the bedroom.

Erik gasped inwardly when Christine came out in the wedding gown he had bought for her. How could a girl with a tearstained, dirty face and messy hair look so captivating? His heart turned cold. "Tears from the thought of a life with me rather than with that handsome de Chagny," Erik thought bitterly. "Am I really so cadaverous that she weeps at the thought of seeing me?"

Christine looked up at Erik hopefully. _"Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood_?" Would he ever stop killing?

Unfortunately, her words came out with a bite in them, and Erik took offense. Words laced liberally with cynicism, he shot back, _"This face which condemns me to wallow in blood had also denied me the joys of the flesh. My face, the infection which poisons our love. This face, which earned a mothers fear and loathing. A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing. Pity comes too late, turn around and face your fate, and eternity of _this_ before your eyes!_" Hatefully he pointed to his distorted face. Why must he always be rejected?

Christine bit her lip. That wasn't how she meant to say it at all! "Tone, you idiot, tone!" she chastised herself. Now Erik was filled with more self-loathing than ever, and she had hurt him beyond hope of recovery. She looked him in the eye, conveying her silent apology.

Erik inwardly berated himself for snapping so terribly at her when he saw the look of sadness written on her face. Why must he always be so harsh? He caught Christine's glance, his eyes pleading for her forgiveness.

Reconciliation drifted around like smoke; present, but barely tangible. In the silence, the two nearly spoke. But then a yell sounded just outside the portcullis.

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So tell me. Love it, hate it, want to punjab me? Noooooo...! Please review!


	2. Touche, Vicomte

Touché, Vicomte

He was enraged. How dare he! And what was _wrong_ with her?

Raoul seethed as he surveyed the scene he stumbled upon. A monster and an angel in a wedding gown, peacefully standing close to each other, with a look in their eyes that was very deep. Raoul couldn't tell specifically what it was from his position, but his angered state of mind distorted it into a look of love.

"You demon!" he exclaimed, banging his fist somewhat painfully against the bars separating him from his beautiful Christine. "What have you done to her!"

XXXXX

Erik whirled, startled by the sound and filled with jealousy at the voice which went with it. That horrid, overblown fop had invaded _his _domain and the greeted him with an insult! "But how could I expect anything else?" Erik thought sadly. The only person who had ever respected him at all was Christine, but now that her knight in dripping clothes was here to rescue her, it was highly doubtful she would be favorably disposed toward Erik at all, if her demeanor could even have been titled so previously.

Why did she have to make things so hard? He only wanted to offer her a life of beauty and music, but then she had to go and break his heart with tears for her precious Vicomte. "Oh Christine¼ " His heart cried out for her, though it was never to be satisfied. No. He wouldn't let himself think like that. There had to be a way.

XXXXX

Christine turned and gasped at the sound of Raoul's voice. "Raoul!" What was _he _doing here? Did he think to "rescue" her from Erik? Ha! Erik would never hurt her, he never had, aside from an overly strong grip on her arm several minutes ago. But that was unintentional. "Go now, Raoul, please, you must leave!" she begged him. He would only make things difficult and provoke Erik, two things that _didn't_ need doing.

XXXXX

Erik came out of his reverie at the sound of his dear Christine's voice crying our to Raoul. "No doubt she's glad to see him," Erik thought resentfully, "fearful for his life though she be." Then he moved toward the gate lever and pushed it forward.

XXXXX

"Christine, are you alright?" Raoul called out. "Has that spawn of the devil hurt you?"

"No, Raoul, of course he hasn't, now go!" Christine was starting to get exasperated with Raoul's hero complex.

"My love, I can't leave you here in this dungeon with a monster!" he cried as the bars began to rise. "Don't fear for my safety, it is the demon's which is in danger!"

XXXXX

Erik didn't like this exchange one bit. The infernal boy slandered him incessantly, all the while acting as though Erik didn't exist. And all his implications! "That I would ever willing hurt an angel." He was indignant.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, how good of you to join us. I do hope my hearing isn't going, I am far too young for such a thing, but I could have sworn you just said I am in danger--from yourself, as a matter of fact. Is this some sort of joke?"

"No," Raoul interjected in a deadly cool manner.

"You are a young boy, Vicomte. Don't throw so much of your life away. You might regret it." Erik knew it probably wasn't the best course of action, but he couldn't resist taunting that insolent fop.

"_You _would do well to remember, Phantom, that I had you at my mercy--or rather, Christine's, for I had none--in the cemetery not long ago." Raoul was full of rage at the thought of the Phantom escaping, and was eager to finish what he had begun.

"Ah¼ yes, I do recall something about you backing me up against a long and then pushing me enough that I fell backwards over it. But that is not considered defeat, its only cheating in the real world. But you wouldn't know, would you, never having fought for real?" Erik's temper was boiling; he was nearly ready to explode. He only contained himself so as not to make Christine hate him more and push her to Raoul's side.

"Enough with this war of words, Phantom, let us begin that you may at last fit the title of Opera Ghost!"

Erik nodded, pulling back on the lever of the portcullis and drawing put his Punjab lasso. "Brave words for a coward such as yourself, but if you insist¼ " Erik looked him hard in the eye.

Raoul drew his sword bravely, glancing at Christine with a debonair smile. "I do."

Erik hardened himself so as not to think of Christine. "Touché, Vicomte."


	3. Hangman

Disclaimer: Do not own anything. I own nothing, nill, zip, nada!

To my wonderful reviewers: Thank you! Wow, I was so surprised when I came home from a soccer game to 6 reviews. I was like "Whoa! Awesome! They actually like it!"

**Nota Lone:** yeah, that typo, i have nooooooo clue why on earth it turned out 3/4. it was supposed to be "..." but whatever. computers are weird, don't get me started.

**intoxicatedbyerik'smusic: **of course i'm going to update. but...you might be a bit ready to punjab me after this huddles in corner hiding from flying ropes i'm so glad you liked it, and that you think its worthy of update!

**computerfreak101: **i wish erik would kill raoul too, but for now we need him. conflict, you know, can't have a good story without it. Bash Raoul!

Now on with the story!

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Hangman

"No! You _can't_!"

Both men had been slowly circling each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. Raoul had finally remembered to hold his hand up near his eyes, though at the distance he kept it, it was hardly helpful. But, at Christine's outburst, they both halted, stepping back and turning to star at her. After all, she had been unusually quiet, so quiet, in fact, that they had momentarily forgotten her presence.

XXXXX

"Who _is _she talking to?" Raoul mused. "Surely she must be talking to that monster; she would have to be mad to defend _its_ life!" Aloud he proclaimed, "Do not fear for me, Christine, I am an expert swordsman, that creature shall not harm me."

XXXXX

"Oh Christine, this is what you meant. Am I done killing? When the Vicomte comes to rescue you, will I leave him be and let him walk off with the only one who respects my menial existence?" The pain in Erik's eyes reflected these thoughts for only a moment before his face became expressionless once again. Was it not enough that he didn't have a complete heart to begin with? Did she have to keep breaking it again and again, blow after blow? "Christine¼ why?" He whispered brokenly. He had no life worth living, and no desire to subject himself to more pain in the future. His eyes and thoughts turned to the noose in his hand. But before he could continue that thought process, Christine spoke again.

"Raoul, I do not fear for your safety. My angel loves me, and he wouldn't want to hurt me.

"My friend, would you truly kill Erik to ensure a life of happiness for you with the woman you love?" Christine forced an eagerness into her voice, hoping to elicit the truest answer from Raoul, knowing he would say it if he thought she would like it.

"My love, I would certainly destroy this nuisance to have you! A creature such as he does not even deserve life!"

XXXXX

Erik's heart continued its descent, and his spirit sank even lower at her words. She did not love him. For God's sake, she loathed him! He should simply end it all now¼

XXXXX

Christine then turned to Erik, praying fervently he would not respond as Raoul did. "And you, Erik. Would you, too, kill Raoul in order to keep me?" Her acting skills did not betray her; the question came out acidly, just as she hoped. Perhaps Erik would react as if this was his final chance at her heart. "As though he doesn't have it already!" she thought.

XXXXX

Erik was not surprised. Christine was playing a game, trying to trap him into something that would give that boy every reason to kill him. Still, he spoke from his heart, hoping Truth would finally be in his favor.

"Christine, I would do anything for your love and happiness. You have seen that I murdered before, thinking it would help ensure our relationship together. I know now that was the worst faux pas I could have ever made, and it served only to drive you from me. I feel nothing but contempt for the Vicomte, and if it would not distance you from me eternally, I would readily dispose of him. But I know I would be killing a man very dear to you and depriving you of the life you truly deserve, and if nothing else, bring you a grief so impossible to forgive that you would hate me forever, and if there is one thing I cannot bear it is a life without my angel."

Christine was touched when she heard Erik's words, and filled with grief when she saw the misunderstanding she had created. Oh, _why _hadn't she confessed her true feelings for him earlier? But then he spoke again.

"My angel, I love you. But angels cannot love demons, this is but a pitiful illusion I have hopelessly entertained, that you could ever love a monster such as me. I wish you great fortune and happiness in your life as Vicomtess. Simply forget your poor Erik, the Opera Ghost, for thoughts of me burning in Hell would only cloud your marriage. My life is of no importance, and do not mourn for my soul, for I have none."

With that, Erik waded over to the portcullis with his noose and, after threading the rope through the bars, looped the lasso around his own neck, adjusting it before a final melody left his lips.

"Christine I love you"

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Don't hurt me!R&R 


	4. Diva's Return

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would be rich. I'm broke. What does that tell you?

Thank you for all the great reviews. This isn't the update you've all been hoping for, I write at night and that night I hadn't come up with what I was supposed to do about Erik yet.

**MouetteHeartsErik** : Thank you, I liked her devious plot rather much myself. Raoul is a monster, thank you for that! I mean, I can sympathize with him, but its so much more fun to make him evil.

**PhantomLover2005:** yes, of course I'm torturing my readers, what else do expect my twisted mind to do? Actually I wasn't sure how much people would like it, so I have to keep them reading somehow! Ha ha. Actually I'm torturing myself, because I know what I want to do, I just don't know how to do it!

**sardine nightclub, intoxicated by eriks music, and anyone else who reviewed this way:** He's not dead yet! Put all your lassos away. I know exactly what I am doing, but I can't tell you why. I don't know why. For conflict's sake, lets say that, shall we?

I pledge not to kill Erik. Now read on!

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Diva's Return

In the dancers' dormitories, Meg looked at her mother worriedly. "Raoul has been down there an awfully long time, Mother, if he was just going down to get Christine. Are you sure we shouldn't go after him?"

Madame Giry sighed as she listened to her daughter. "Three things, Marguerite Giry.

"The first; _you _ought never go below the second cellar. Remember what happened to poor old Joseph Buquet in the third? No, Cheri, you must not go down there.

"The second; Erik does not take kindly to uninvited guests. The lower cellars are his domain only, and no one must ever descend so deep without his permission.

"And thirdly, Meg, is that Raoul did not simply go to rescue Christine, but to put an end to the Phantom as well. If you were to go down there, you would surely see a sight that innocent eyes such as yours should never see. As I said, Erik does not like intruders, especially those who mean to take from him what he loves. I could not let you be scarred so, Meg."

Her mind spinning and her eyes the size of saucers, Meg stared at her mother. "No---no! Surely you do not mean Raoul--I mean, the Vicomte de Chagny--"she blushed. "You cannot mean he is dying a horrific death even as we speak! Oh, please Mother, say it isn't so!"

Now this was unexpected. When had her child become so attached to a man who was only the Patron of the Opera? "My dear, calm yourself," Madame Giry said soothingly as Meg began to get hysterical. "Raoul can defend himself, provided he does as I advised him." He would have to be mad not too, she thought. "Meg, have you become attached to Raoul? Is that why you are so concerned?"

Blushing to the color of a lobster, Meg stammered out, "He--he's so handsome, Mother, and so considerate. Do you see how he always makes sure the people around him are comfortable, and how he tries hard not to be overly aristocratic? Why, when he was announced at Hannibal's rehearsal, he even apologized for an interruption entirely not his fault! He's so dear, Mother, how could I not have fallen in love with him?"

XXXXX

After the horrid incident with the safety pin, the Commissary, and the Vicomte, Monsieurs Richard and Moncharmin were undeniably perturbed. Informed of the state of the audience, the managers rushed into the auditorium more harried than ever, and hoping for nothing more at the moment than to wake up and find this all a ridiculous nightmare. However, upon their entrance, they were swarmed and bombarded with more questions than any two people could hope to answer in a lifetime.

"What is the meaning of this, monsieurs?"

"Does the Opera Ghost not provide _enough_ publicity?"

"Is this some sort of mean-spirited joke?"

"Where has the Diva gone off to?"

"Is it true that she ran away with the Comte de Chagny?"

"How will the show go on?"

"This _will_ be refunded, I presume?"

"**SILENCE!**" bellowed the Commissary. "_Kindly_ allow the managers passage to the stage _immediately_!"

Certain authorities have more clout than others, and with the commissary's aide the path to the stage was much clearer than before. As they and the word that they would give reasonable explanations for the events passed, the crowd quieted to a near whisper, with only a few gossips sharing all the details of what they were certain had happened.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do indulge us a few moments' time to collaborate with the director as to what we are to do. Mademoiselle Daae has, in fact, disappeared, and we do not know as of yet what has become of her. Many of the rumors you have heard, if not all of them, are false. We are not trying to jip you, nor is this a publicity stunt. We can only say that, if the performance is not capable of being continued, you will have a full refund." As Monsieur Richard finished his address, the opera-goers once again erupted in loud discussion.

"And please stay seated! Some of you may have to testify as to what you did or did not witness," shouted the Commissary above all the hubbub.

XXXXX

Discussing the current situation with Monsieur Reyer, however, turned out to be more difficult than expected. The poor man was distressed enough already with the disappearance of the Prima Donna, but seeing Monsieur Moncharmin with the majority of his mustache pulled out disturbed him even further. After all, who wouldn't be upset by such a sight?

"Maestro, will you please stop pacing? This incessant motion is making me nauseous," complained Moncharmin. He stood and took Reyer by the shoulders. "Relax, man!"

"Relax? You wish me to relax, my good managers? My star is missing, the audience is in an uproar, all my cast is badgering me with questions, and now you two as well!"

Richard tried to employ a soothing tone, a feat none too easy with his temper. "Monsieur, simply tell us if the performance can continue or not. That is all we need to know."

"Oh, well, of course it can! We could pull in the egotistical Spanish diva; she would sing it most willingly!" Reyer was becoming sarcastic, something that only happened when he was frustrated or Carlotta was involved, both of which occurred quite frequently together.

The managers flinched at the thought of putting Carlotta onstage again; they couldn't bear the thought of her screeching in triumph.

"Yais, yais, I would most gladly sing-a for mah managers, HAD THEY NOT-A REPLACED MEH WEETH ZAT LEETLE INGÉNUE! You want-a meh to sing-a, you come gait-a me in Spain where Ah am wanted!" With that interjection, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, her "doggeh," and her entourage stalked out of the Opera Populaire, creating quite a stir as they went, mostly due to Carlotta shoving the ballet rats out of her way.

"Well. At least that matter is resolved," stated a very relieved Richard, as the managers turned to go inform the audience they could leave and expect a full refund.

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I know, I know, I didn't tell you what happened 5 cellars down. This is the end of my pre-written chapters, so the next update might take a little bit longer. But don't Punjab me in the meantime or else you won't get a resolution at all! 


	5. The End of?

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my computer. Well, I don't really even own that. It was a present, so I guess I don't. Oh well.

To my reviewers:

**Draegonfire**: thank you sooooooo much for being my editor. bouncing ideas off someone who actually knows what i'm talking about works much better than running them past my friends.

**MouetteHeartsErik: **don't you think Carlotta's part was great? i just had to put her in there...

**Sardine nightclub**: you think my writing is eloquent? well, all i can say is i'm flattered...never been called eloquent before...

And a few notes: 1, new format. i've been told the difference between the characters' thoughts and words is vague, so i changed it. quotes, as always, are speaking parts. italics are thoughts, and italics and quotes together are lines that are sung.

2, i forgot to say at the beginning that i was letting Erik keep his hair. He doesn't wear a wig, that's his natural hair.

And now for the chapter you've all been threatening me for!

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The End of…?

As Erik moved toward the grate, Christine stood in shock, shaking her head. "No……no….He can't be doing this," she whispered.

"_Christine I love you."_

"NO!"

"Erik, don't do this!" She went to him as fast as she could through the water and her skirts. "Stop!" As she reached him she pulled at the lasso in desperation, crying almost hysterically, finally freeing him from its death grip. "Erik……."

Erik was very confused. First she practically asked Raoul to kill him, then she flew into hysterics when he went to kill himself. _Perhaps she wants the pleasure of seeing that fop kill me instead? Perhaps she wants me to die a more terrible death than the life I've lived? Or perhaps…._no, that couldn't be. She couldn't possibly have planned it to go the other way, for Raoul to kill himself. _She's going to marry him, you fool! She wouldn't want him dead, and you alive!_ As he looked down at the distraught girl in front of him, though, he couldn't help but wonder. "Christine?"

Christine looked up, she had worried that he might have pulled the rope while she was on her way to him. "Erik, I didn't mean for this to happen," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"_Angel of Music, I deceived you,_

_Breaking your heart blindly._

_Angel, I'm sorry, please forgive me,_

_Stay with me, strange angel!"_

Erik picked up on the familiar tune, as he expressed himself far better in music than conversation.

"_Christine I've only been dreaming;_

_Fancies like this can't come true._

_But Christine you're talking in riddles,_

_And it's not like you."_

Of course her question had confused him! Why couldn't she have just stated what she wanted to know, rather than playing with his heart and mind? Could she ever straighten this out?

"_Angel, my Erik, teacher, lover,_

_Pardon my actions, trust me!_

_Erik, I love you, now and always,_

_Don't leave me now, Angel!"_

As she sang, Christine moved closer and closer to Erik, until he could feel her breathe while singing.

"_Wonderful angel of darkness,_

_What kind of life have you known?_

_God give His blessing to show you,_

_You are not alone!"_

Slowly, timidly, Christine placed her hands on his shoulders, rose up, and touched her lips to Erik's, sending a jolt through his body.Then, with less hesitation this time, she kissed him deeply, holding him to her with one hand while caressing his face with the other.

Erik was speechless at Christine's loving touch. Responding to her, he moved his lips against hers, and tangled his long, musical fingers in her hair. Running his tongue along her lips, he slid it between them, and deepened the kiss further.

Christine's mouth opened, welcoming the tongue that parted her lips. Her stomach felt as though it had fallen down to her foot. "Erik….." She moaned his name into his lips, unable to do anything else, and slid her hand up from his back into his hair, running her fingers through the rich ebony locks. "Erik….."

XXXXX

Raoul's jaw gaped in astonishment. Two minutes ago, Christine had been practically begging him to kill the Phantom, or so he thought, but now she was kissing the monster passionately right in front of him. She had gone to him, weeping and begging that the Phantom not hang himself, and tugging desperately at the rope so that he wouldn't. She sang to him in her melodious voice, asking for his forgiveness and professing her love. And now this. Surely he had put her under a spell, for Raoul's Little Lotte would never behave like this!

"Christine, my love, what is this? Has that hellish demon put a spell on you with his voice? Leave him, Christine, he is nothing but a living corpse, you could not possibly love a face like that! Let me deal with him!"

XXXXX

At Raoul's cry the two reluctantly broke their passionate embrace.

Erik's mind ran in circles. Christine had just kissed him, held him, touched him. His heart told Erik she loved him. But his mind reasoned against it, bringing up every betrayal, however unintentional, she had ever made him. There was no logic behind her loving him, it just couldn't be. The Vicomte told her the same, there was no reason for Christine to love Erik, he was a demon, and unworthy of her. Soon Christine would undoubtedly run to Raoul, pleading with him to undo the spell cast upon her by the voice of an angel in hell.

Turning around to face Raoul, Christine stared at him. "A spell? You think he has put a spell on me? Use your mind Raoul! Spells do not exist, we are in a scientific age, there is no such thing as witchcraft!

"But Christine, you cannot possibly love a demon, why, he said so himself! Christine. I only want a life of happiness with you. Stand aside and allow me to end his reign of terror!" Raoul drew his sword once more and waded toward Erik, threatening him with every step. "Your end is near, Opera Ghost, any last words?" Raoul closed in, pointing the weapon straight at Erik's heart.

"Raoul, no, I won't let you do this!" Christine cried, planting herself between the two men. "How many times must I tell you, Raoul, that I want to be with him rather than you?" She glanced at Erik's bitter, hard visage, and smiled sweetly. "That I love him?" Glaring back at Raoul, she said, "It's always about what you want, isn't it? _You _want to live a happy life with me as your wife. _You _want to end him. _You _want to. Have you ever thought about what I want? Ever thought that there might be someone else out there who holds the key to my heart? You were my childhood sweetheart, Raoul. I was your Little Lotte. I _was. _You _were. _Anything we might have had is in the past. Leave it there. Now with that said, if you want to kill him, you will have to kill me too. Oh, you may push me out of the way, bind me across the room so that I, in my "spell-bound state of mind," will not interfere, but you will still kill me. A soul whose life spring has been drained cannot survive long without it, and if you kill my angel, my Erik, you will write my death sentence."

* * *

I can't wait to see the reviews on this one, since you've all been threatening to kill me if I didn't post it soon! 


	6. The Marksman

Disclaimer: Do not own Phantom of the Opera. Don't own the Persian's name either, that belongs to Clever Lass (sorry, didn't get a chance to ask. I'll change it if you don't like me using it)

As always, **draegon fire**, thank you for your editing skills, they make this much easier. and of course for being a fellow phan whom i can bounce ideas off of.

**sardine nightclub: **well, it did...just without the desired effect...

**MouetteHeartsErik:** first, can I call you Mouette? It's soo much faster and easier to type...second, I LOVE HIS HAIR TOO! I mean, it's just part of the sexy Gerik phantom image, no? and it does make him look soo much more messed up. In "I remember" (the movie) he really still looked hot with his mask off, even when you saw his reflection in the mirror...

**intoxicated by Erik's music:** oh, thank you, that's lovely of you to say (I was going to say loverly but that sounds a bit wrong don't ya think?) really its just midnight musings thrown together...well, that chapter wasn't, but all the others were...i think that one came after a stressed out sojourn to the pool...

* * *

The Marksman

Erik finally snapped out of his kissing-induced stupor enough to know that the Vicomte was threatening him yet again and Christine was standing in the way, professing her love for him in front of Raoul. "Christine--" he asked wonderingly, "you love me?"

Glancing up at him momentarily, she said with a small smile gracing her lips, "Yes, Erik, I do. So…." she turned her attention back to the foppish boy, intent on making him understand her. "Do you choose a temporary life with the shell of the woman you love, or will you let us go in peace together, and find yourself a new bride?"

Raoul was still being particularly dense, probably as a side effect of being plunged into an icy tank of water, and refused to believe what he was hearing. _She can't possibly love the possessor of that gruesome face. Surely I can make her see reason. _And so Raoul tried to reach her in a way he was certain Christine would understand--through song.

"_Christine, Christine_

_Don't think that I don't care,_

_But all our hopes and all our dreams_

_Rest on you now._

_Can you deny us the future in store?_

_Love me, dear Lotte--"_

"NO MORE!" Raoul, I've said it every way I possibly could and you still don't understand! Little Lotte loved you, but she is gone now! You're in love with the memory of what once was. If you had excepted this sooner and gotten over it, maybe we could still see each other, spend time together---" Christine trailed off. _Don't think about the way things might have been, _she chided herself. "But now I seriously doubt we could even exchange passing greetings without you badgering me about loving you. I don't want a stalker, Raoul."

As Christine spoke, Erik wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her possessively against him. "Do you hear her, Vicomte? She does not want you or your wealth of your good looks. How does it feel to be denied for once, _boy_?" he spat out mockingly.

"Erik, please don't do this. Taunting Raoul will not resolve these issues any sooner; it can only make things worse. I love you, Angel, and you need not worry about losing me to him." Christine turned her face upward and kissed Erik softly on his lips. "You never did lose me. Even on the rooftop that night, I was still truly yours." She gently caressed his scars.

"Then you _lied _to me Christine?" Raoul asked in disbelief. "You lied to me, told me you loved me, begged me to be your guide and protector, all the while never meaning a word of it?" The meaning of what she had said hit him at last, and the revelation sent his mind spiraling downward into madness. "How could you Christine? What possessed you to deceive me about something like that?" He saw Christine begin to speak and silenced her. "I know, I know, your precious Angel of Music, the Opera Ghost, who else could it be but him? When you said it, I should have known then. 'The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind.'"

"Don't you blame Erik," Christine hissed acidly. "He never had that kind of control over me." Her voice rising in anger, she continued. "Yes, he was always inside my mind, but only because I couldn't stop thinking about him! Thoughts of his voice singing to me, his arms holding me, his music….The feelings these elicited consumed my thoughts, I couldn't think of anything else but him! And why do you think I begged for protection that night? Certainly not for the simple reason that the stage hand had just been dropped from the catwalks, hanging dead by his neck from a rope! Certainly that would not have traumatized me sufficiently to cause me to ask abnormal requests from anyone! As Christine ended her tirade, roughly 100 decibels higher than when she started, her breath was ragged and her hands grasped Erik's tightly.

"Hush, _mon ange_, be still," Erik whispered in her ear, freeing his hand from her grip and running it up her arm to her hair, combing his long fingers through the lush chocolate curls. "Be still." His voice was so soft, so caring, yet still authoritative, as he turned her face lovingly towards him.

"But Erik---"

"No Christine." He silenced her words with a finger placed lightly on her lips. "Just be still and know that I love you, and nothing can change that." With that he gently moved her aside and stepped just past her, so that nothing but water remained between him and Raoul.

XXXXX

Raoul, when faced with a distraught and ranting Christine, had walked backward progressively as she raised her voice, so that now upwards of twenty feet separated him when there had only been inches before. But when he saw the Phantom touch her in such a tender, loving manner; when he saw the way Christine responded, trembling at his touch and turning toward him so willingly, as though she enjoyed looking on that deathly visage; and gazing at the monster with such devotion in her eyes, Raoul was filled with rage. The sweet love he had once had for Christine morphed into something darker, a possessive insanity that controlled his entire being, and he no longer regarded her thoughts or feelings as of any consequence. All he cared about was to having her as his, and to injure the monster as painfully as possible in the process, both physically and emotionally. _If that's even possible. Can one have feelings without a heart or soul? _And so, in his madness, while the Phantom was distracted with calming Christine, Raoul adjusted his grip on the sword and charged the seven yards toward Erik, intent on making him a ghost.

XXXXX

Kahveh Tallis, otherwise known as the Persian, had been surveying the scene before him for quite some time now without drawing attention to himself. He preferred it that way. Having entered the lair secretly while Erik was off working mischief on the managers and others above the cellars, Kahveh was anything but certain of a warm welcome, being that he was uninvited, combined with the fact that he let himself in.

It was a fascinating drama to watch, really. A young, beautiful girl being fought over by two rivals; one a fop, the other a Phantom. Considering the girl's beauty and charm, she hardly seemed a match for either of the men. She was far too sweet for the fop, and beautiful beyond the hopes of the Phantom. _But her lovely disposure creates the perfect counterpart to Erik's vile temper, _he thought. _Perhaps not so ridiculous a match, after all. _The girl certainly did seem devoted to him, weeping as Erik tried to hang himself, kissing him passionately when she finally removed the device of death, and now ranting at the foppish boy for threatening to kill Erik again.

Breaking out of his reverie, Kahveh continued to watch the show. Now Erik spoke comfortingly to the girl; the Persian supposed her to be Christine, Erik never talked of any other young girl; and Christine responded, submitting when he pushed her slight form aside, quieting when he told her to hush. Then Kahveh attention was drawn across the room as he heard an unexplained swishing of water. The Vicomte had raised his sword and was now swiftly striding toward the distracted couple.

Kahveh rose. _This is no time to simply sit back and watch, _he thought, drawing out his pistol.

XXXXX

As Erik tried to step forward, Christine held him back, turning him to her. "Erik, don't fight him, he'll kill you, I know. Then he'll marry me--he won't let me go! What I once used to dream…..I now dread….if he takes me it won't ever end! _He'll always be there, by my side in my bed…._Erik that would be a living hell I couldn't endure. Don't fight him, my angel, I love you too much."

"_Christine, my love, he is nothing but a man. But while he lives, he will haunt us till we're---" But Erik never finished his sentence, for Christine's scream of horror stopped him. Turning around, he saw Raoul only feet away, sword held ready to run him through. A shot rang out, stopping all thought, and Erik gasped as a terrible pain sliced his chest, falling away from Christine, his body's impact on the water disguising the other splash that sounded only inches away._

XXXXX

"Oh, by the gods, no!" whispered a horrified Kahveh, seeing the two limp bodies fall into the water. "No…."

* * *

I am expecting Punjab threats, dear reviewers, don't disappoint me or (you know the rest, all together now) _or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur_---no updates for a week! I seriously doubt i could carry that out, i'm as much on the edge of my seat as you are (well, for some of you I might just be sitting back lazily on a couch...but you get the point) ok, shutting up now, just please Review!

Oh yeah, and the Persian's name? got that off of Clever Lass if you didn't read the disclaimer, Nadir's too...generic, I guess, and with a different name comes a different character. but as i said, shutting up.


	7. Angel's Revival

Disclaimer: I don't own this. y'ok? 

I do not understand this rumor about no review replies. Until I find out the truth, or am yelled at, I shall not stop.

**Mouette:** Yes, I love Gerik's hair too much to let him die. It's very difficult to have and EC ending without an E, no? And it wasn't intentional that I leave it for a week (actually over). Originally it was just a threat, meant to spur on reviews. But my muse went on summer vacation to Aruba and forgot to bring me, so this chap was slow in coming. Sorry!

**Twinkle22:** Thanks, Twinkle, I'm glad to have another steady reviewer! (please?)

**Savy/ intoxicated by eriks music:** wow. talk about a blow up! I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry! Yes, you can have more fluff, you'll just have to wait a little. These are not fluffy moments as of yet. And of course, to have proper fluff, one must have Erik. So there's your second order. Anything else?

**draegonfire: **Thanks as always for being my editor!

**atricesparrow:** Surely you do not suspect me of such atrocities as to leave it there forever and ever! I had hoped that Persian thing would be a bit clearer, but maybe it was just me. Hopefully you'll understand in this chapter, but I'll explain at the bottom just in case there was anyone else confused.

**Son Kat:** yes I am evil. MWAHAHA! and strange. I am weird, hear me roar: Moooooooo...!

**Celestial Secrets: **Gaaaaaaaaah! Not the porkchop! Not another foam fight! and how do you get that little sunny thing? I like it. And your oh-so-fashionable style is absolutely lovely, and they've got marvelous stuff at TGMAXX, did you know? I just got 4 Jeans, a pair of shorts and an awesome skirt for 35 dollars! you have _got_ to go there. I would publish chocolate pudding if I could...but perhaps I will, in my humor fic (if it is ever created)

**TOO ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO LURK AND REFUSE TO REVIEW: **I know you are there, my hit counter sees all! I should have at least twice as many reviews as I do, if my hit counter is perfectly accurate (which it had better be!) Unless of course you all think my story worth crap, not like it isn't, but at least tell me what can be improved if you don't like it!

And chocolate pudding to whomever may be my 50th reviewer, and cookies if you wish!

* * *

Angel's Revival

Christine gaped in a dazed horror at the sight before her. "Oh, Lord, not now, no. Erik? Erik!" Collapsing beside his body in the water, she placed one arm under his head and then turned him over with the other. "Oh Erik…!" She gasped, paling. His shirt was soaked with blood. "No! My angel…." Christine began to weep.

Erik's mind was clouded by pain; he could move, couldn't think, he could hardly breathe, even when he felt himself being pulled out of the water. He could hear Christine moaning in apparent anguish. He had heard her cry out when he was placed on his back, and now he felt her tears fall on his face. Struggling to clear the fog in his brain, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hush, my dear, be still…." he mumbled.

Christine opened her own when she heard him speak, jubilation and relief written all over her face. _He is not dead! _"Oh Erik, I thought you had left me." She reached out, about to open his shirt to inspect the damage.

"I know," Erik said, stilling her hands, "but could you get me out of this lake first?

"Of course, but--ah…"Christine sighed, Erik had faded back into unconsciousness again. _But how am _I _supposed to get him anywhere? _She glanced up again, hearing a splash near the edge of the lake, into the eyes of the Persian.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance to you, Mademoiselle?" He asked pointedly, nodding at the unconscious Phantom.

"Oh, please, yes, thank you," she stammered, ashamed to have been staring. "Would you take him to a more….fitting reposal, please?" Christine requested as the Persian lifted Erik easily over his shoulder.

"Certainly, Mademoiselle Daae, but what do wish done with _that_," he jerked his head in the fop's general direction, "disgrace to the male population?"

"Raoul!" Christine had temporarily forgotten him, having been so worried about Erik, but now splashed toward him and lifted his head out of the water, drowning him would do no good. "Yes, just lay Erik down on the bed, please, I'll see to him, and then if you would not mind, take Raoul up to Madame Giry?" Christine was feeling very uncomfortable directing this unfamiliar man whom she had formerly only regarded with fear.

With only a moment's pause to ponder Christine's lack of concern over her former fiancé, the Persian strolled off to the left, Erik dangling limply.

"Wait!" Christine called out after him. "Where are you taking Erik?"

"To his room, mademoiselle, as you had said," he stated, bewildered.

"Oh please don't take him to that morgue, I wasn't him to get better, not die! Just lay him in the other room." Christine waved him to the right somewhat distractedly, trying to distinguish between the air drafts moving through the cavern and Raoul's possible breathing.

"As you wish," he shrugged. "But you will have to take the 'morgue' as you call it," the Persian called over his shoulder, striding off.

_Au contraire, thought Christine with a smirk. I shan't be sleeping in there at all._

XXXXX

_She does have a point, thought Kahveh. This room is certainly less tomb-like than Erik's._

"The other room," as Christine referred to it, was far better appointed than Kahveh's original destination. The walls, made of cold, gray stone, were covered in rich velvet tapestries, all in either inky black or deep wine red to give it warmth. In the corner was a gorgeous fireplace, its mantle carved out of the stone and looking very grand and impressive even in the large room. In front of it and all across the floor were beautiful Persian carpets, plush and luxurious to walk on, softening even the cave floor. As Kahveh treaded silently across them, he noticed the fragrant arrangements of burgundy roses placed around the room, interspersed with candles, giving the room a much lighter and decidedly feminine air. This room was no doubt intended for Christine, even down to the wardrobe on the near wall, assuredly filled with an array of gowns fit for an empress, all bought with her in mind. As he surveyed the expanse, Kahveh's eyes fell upon the center. A bed, handsomely sculpted from dark mahogany into the shape of a swan, dominated the chamber. Piled high with soft pillows of the same colors as the drapes, it looked as though sleeping upon it would be sweeter than sleeping on a cloud. _No wonder Christine wanted Erik brought in here; it's so much more comfortable. _He had always wanted a wife like that, who would give up personal comfort when faced with her husband's needs…. Shaking himself back to reality, Kahveh carefully, if unceremoniously, laid Erik on the swan bed and hurried out to attend to the half-drowned fop. _Raoul, _he reminded himself. Letting "fop" slip out when addressing the Vicomte would not do at all.

XXXXX

Christine, now thoroughly soaked in both blood and water, was trying futilely to get the gunshot wound in Raoul's side to stop bleeding so profusely. The Persian should have been back by now, it seemed so long. But perhaps she was only imagining it. Hearing footsteps, she twisted to see behind her. "Oh, thank goodness, you're back!" Suddenly she realized that she didn't even know his name. "I beg pardon if I seem rude in asking, but who _are _you?"

Unsure of how much Erik had revealed to her of his past, Kahveh simply stated, "You may call me Monsieur Tallis, mademoiselle, until Erik sees fit to give us a proper introduction."

"Charmed to meet you, Monsieur Tallis," Christine abruptly broke off her usual introductory speech. "Oh, just listen to us, exchanging silly formalities while two men are dying! I really must see to Erik now, you know the way to Madame Giry's flat, I assume? Excellent. Now if you will excuse me…." she trailed off, turning Raoul's custody over to Kahveh and hurriedly splashing out of the lake toward the room where Erik lied.

_And so I have to deliver the man I shot into the arms of one of the most powerful women in the Opera, Kahveh thought as Christine disappeared. What lovely complications._

XXXXX

The sight which greeted Christine as she entered the bedroom was hardly encouraging. Erik looked terribly ghostlike, his face drained of color, his usually busy hands lying still, almost as in death, by his side, and his shirt drenched with blood. She flew to the bedside in alarm, placing her hand on the crimson material covering his chest, praying he hadn't stopped breathing, for he looked for all the world like a corpse. (bad pun not intended). "Oh Lord, be merciful, don't let him die!" Christine whispered, taking Erik's cold hand in her own warm ones. "I love him…." Letting go, she went to the small buttons on his shirt, undoing them, and then gently removed the fabric from him. "Oh, God!" Christine gasped. A sword-gash, as wide as two of her fingers, scored Erik's torso with a gruesome line, meandering down across his abdomen (alas, marring his magnificent six-pack) until it trailed off his side, ending just past his waist. "My angel, my angel…." she whispered in dismay. (after all, who wouldn't, his hotness has just been terribly messed up) Reminding herself this was no time for drama, Christine rose and quickly fetched a bowl of warm water, bandages and rags for the task ahead of her. (notice defined lack of shirt)

XXXXX

Kahveh poled the gondola along, ferrying the unconscious fop to the other side of the lake in order to turn him over to Madame Giry, muttering Persian curses the whole way, regretting his soft heart for weeping women. Why had he agreed to take the boy to safety? It would have been so much easier to let him die, gods knew he deserved it---.

Arriving at his destination, Kahveh fastened the boat and then threw the Vicomte over his shoulder, heading off toward a short cut that would take him to Madame Giry faster. The sooner he got this bloody mess of a boy off his shoulder the better.

XXXXX

As Christine finished binding Erik's wound, she trailed her fingers lightly over the exposed part of his chest. Oh how she loved him. Knowing he couldn't hear her but wishing he could, she told him so. "_Erik, I love you._" Placing a gentle kiss and a touch on his deformed face, she got up and went to the right side of the swan bed. Christine crawled in, still in the wet, bloody wedding gown, and tucked herself under his arm, resting comfortably and conforming perfectly to his frame. Slowly she drifted off to sleep, one hand still resting on his scars.

* * *

Happy now? He's not dead, Raoul might be though, who knows? And about the one shot, two hits thing. Kahveh fired at Raoul. Raoul was only a few feet away from Erik when he was hit. His momentum carried him forward, hence the sword he was carrying came into contact with Erik. So Erik got a big nasty cut. comprende?

And I am doing a double update since I am not going to be near a computer for a week. But, you may not read ahead until Monday, at least! Pretend that I update then, with chapter 8. I mean, it seriously won't be too hard, there's no gynormous cliffie, except on Raoul, but even that isn't _too _awful.


	8. Midnight Horrors

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own the thing.

Yes, I am updating this the same night, but as I said, I am not going to be around for a week. Therefore you must not read this unless it is Monday, August 22 or later. Or no cookies!

**Savy:** wow. it wasn't _that _good, was it? and, erm, thank you, I guess, though the correction sounds much better. There's no fluff in this chapter, really, but Erik's not awake either, so you can't have fluff without Erik, as I have said before. And I'm sorry it will take me so long, really, but there are no computers at camp! oooooh, i get a crown? coolness.

**PhantomLover: **I"m glad you liked it, but those, er, sidenotes, were completely unintentional! I had them in there originally just because i was joking around with my editors, and I forgot to take them out! And I love Kahveh, he's such an antogonist, and so blunt. I think you'll like him even more in this chapter! Has your friend seen Gerik? how can she call him ugly? ugh, I punjab her! not really. she's entitled to her opinion, but I as almighty authoress say he's hot!

Ten more reviews until I get to fifty, chocolate pudding and cookies still up for grabs!

* * *

Midnight Horrors

Madame Giry was closing the door on her daughter's room when a knock sounded at her door. _Who on earth would be calling at this hour of the night? _It was just after two in the morning, she herself would have been asleep hours ago, had not Meg wanted to keep vigil for Raoul's safe return with Christine. Mme. Giry had only just convinced the girl to go to bed and contact the absent couple the following day.

Could it be _he? _Perhaps Monsieur Ghost was calling to give her new orders? Or maybe he came to bid her farewell, to thank her for her services, and to inform her of his removal to another Opera, with another beautiful soprano? On this train of thought the ballet mistress opened the door.

And promptly fell into the nearest chair at the sight of the Persian, with Raoul over his shoulder, both of them rather bloody.

"Come now, Madame Giry, no time for fainting spells! The bloody fool is half dead and I wish to remove him immediately. His blood is doing a marvelous job of ruining my clothing."

She was astounded. The least expected man in the world had brought the most anticipated boy, but under the most shocking circumstances. "Kahveh, what happened? Is Christine all right?" she questioned as she led him to the spare room. _Thank goodness Meg is not awake to see this horror; it would surely give her a turn. _"Just lay the boy here, Kahveh, I'll see to his care. Go sit yourself in the parlor; I'll be out in a moment." So saying, she bustled around, procuring the necessary items for Raoul's care.

"Certainly, Madame, I hope you don't mind me helping myself to the liquor, then, seeing as your busy?" The Persian asked, his glass already partially filled.

"Do I have a choice?" she snorted.

"Well, you could always simply snatch it from my hand while giving me a lovely lecture on manners, accentuated by cane-tapping," he retorted amiably.

Incensed, Mme. Giry did nearly that. "Out, Kahveh, _out! _If you must remain, for heaven's sake stay out of my way! Now, _get into the parlor and stay there or I shall force you to._" Her cane left no room for protest.

"As you wish, my dear," he stated, extravagantly bowing himself out. "So good to see you again, and under such lovely circumstances."

_Oh the man, the man….I'll have his head someday! Shaking her head to calm herself, Madame Giry turned to Raoul's body._

That certainly was a nasty wound in his stomach. The bullet would have to be left for now though, she had neither the tools nor the expertise to extract it. She did a double-take. The bullet? Erik did not use firearms, she knew that, that gunshot drew far too much attention to the murder. As she pondered these thoughts, Madame Giry continued tending to the damaged fop, not hearing the light step behind her.

"Mother? Mother, what are you doing, why are you still awake?" Meg cocked her head in an attempt to see what was on the bed that was so important. Suddenly she turned a ghastly shade of white as she caught sight of the body, nearly fainting at the bloody view. Staggering backward in shock, Meg slumped against the doorframe, slowly wagging her head back and forth in disbelief and horror. "Say it isn't Raoul….Please, tell me it isn't him, Mother!"

"Marguerite, I have never lied to you, and do not intend to begin the practice now. It is Raoul, Cheri, but he is not dead. The Vicomte _is _in mortal peril, but if I can staunch this, he has a much greater chance of survival." Here she furiously jabbed a cloth into the ragged hole, hoping to slow the bleeding. Wrapping further strips of fabric around the wounded area, she continued, "It will be your duty, Meg Giry, to tend to the boy during his recovery. See to his needs, change the bandages, and the like. Yes, you will have a formal excuse from your lessons, but I will have you go through an hour of routines as soon as I return from the Opera."

Pushing her revulsion aside, Meg grasped at the chance to be near hear beau nearly constantly. Attempting to appear nonchalant, Meg queried, "But what of Christine? Surely she would prefer to be by her fiancé's side while he recovers?"

"I do not know of Christine's whereabouts, Meg, only Kahveh seems to know anything of what's going on. Go ask him, he could use some pestering. _He bother's me enough, it's time he got a share,_ Madame Giry thought wryly.

"Kahveh, Mother?"

"Yes dear, the Persian, what!"

"The Persian? M-mother!"

"Marguerite, just because one is Persian does not mean one is evil or dangerous. Monsieur Tallis simply gets too much pleasure out of baiting others into cockfighting. Now go, inquire of him."

Meg went.

XXXXX

Nightmares. A vortex of horrible imaginings swirled through Erik's head. Memories haunted him, turning his fiery thoughts to the past.

'_Devil child! What did I do to deserve a monster like you? I was a good child, a proper woman, a devoted wife. And God saw fit to curse me with a living corpse for a child!' His mother ranted at him, cursed him, all the while refusing to look at him. 'And now my husband is leaving me, he does not want to be associated with the woman who gave birth to a demon! Curse you! May you live a life of torment because of what you've brought upon me, this disgrace that a creature like you has brought on my head!' Madeline finally looked at him, and what the boy saw terrified him even more than what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Loathing, hatred, malice, revulsion, all showing blatantly on the face of his mother. She despised him, even beseeching the Creator to strike him down, so that he would no longer be a thorn in her side. 'Or, does he not see fit to do so, I will end this living Hell myself!' she declared._

_Erik fled in fear._

_He cowered in the corner of his cage, watching the gypsy-torturer approach him with menace. The man kicked him in the side, transporting Erik to the center of the crowd in one swift move. 'Come! Come and see the Devil's Child!' He snatched the flour sack from Erik's head, displaying his horrible visage for the world to see. He yanked Erik's hair, forcing him to look into the faces of the jeering crowd. Erik stared coldly back at the faces, refusing to show his pain. A life of torment indeed. Erik trembled with anger and pain as he was brutally beaten all for the layman's enjoyment._

_Screaming, shouts of confusion and terror. The prisoner ran around the mirror-chamber in a maddened frenzy. Soon he would reach for the tree, the iron tree with the noose, and hang himself. It was almost boringly predictable._

_Erik relished the feeling of having the poser of life and death. Now he was the one in charge, the one calling the shots, the one watching as others endured pain and suffering. He was no longer the prey, but the predator. Thos who had laughed and jeered at his torment were now below him, the commoners who found his torture to be entertainment were now the ones being made sport of. He was above them now._

Erik yelled and tumbled in the swan bed, his dreams betraying his greatest fears, rather than his memories.

'_No! Christine!' he screamed as the sword found its mark. Christine collapsed into the water of the lake, a sword skewering her frail body, slain by the jealous Vicomte. Erik ran to her, taking her lifeless form into his arms, and weeping as never before. 'You killed her, you fool, she's dead!' Raoul smiled an evil smirk. 'If I can't have her as mine, no one will.'_

"Christine!" Erik cried out in his semi-unconscious state of mind. "Christine!" He tossed, mummifying himself in the silk sheets of the bed, until he felt a loving hand take hold of his.

"Hush, Erik, I'm here, be still."

Feeling her touch, Erik relaxed, and lapsed into dreamless sleep.

* * *

Sorry if there are any terrible errors in here, I didn't run this by my editor because I wanted to get it up ASAP. I beg forgiveness. 

Until next Monday, then. I expect bunches of reviews, and more from the lurkers too! (do I dare ask 30 for these two chapters?)


	9. Fluff and Nonsense

I'm back! oh wait...

Disclaimer: don't own it.

Alrighty now on to business. First, I apologize profusely for not having updated for a month and a half! I could make excuses about school and writers block like asmart author would, because everyone would understand and sympathize. But all I can say is for a bout 3 weeks my notebook sat in my drawer with all this written in it, I just forgot to take it out and type it. I was also exceptionally lazy and uninspired for the rest of that time, so my writing is absolutely terrible this time. Pathetic, really. So I appologize for incredibly awful chapter, but I also thought that if I didn't put something up I just might get punjabbed. So, voila, here is my pitiful composition.

Oh yeah I forgot, review replies...oops.

Oh side note, have you ever noticed how bad people are at following directions? I said don't read that last chapter till Monday, and before I left on Sunday I must have had 5 reviews for chapter 8! oy you people!

**Erikphan24601** poof! You were my 50th review so you get cookies or chocolate pudding or whatever I promised the fiftieth reviewer in the last chapter, I forget. Thanks!

**Mouette: **sob even Mouette doesn't listen to me anymore...sniff But yes Raoul is cheating with his engagement ring on, but oh well. Maybe he'll get disowned by his family because he has commitment issues. Wait, no, then Meg couldn't be a proper lady. Never mind.

**Unseengenius**: I have no clue what the heck you said. I take Spanish, not french, and all I could make out was something about history. Mind explaining?

**PhantomLover05**: You don't know who Gerik is! Horror! Gerry Butler playing Erik.

**Celestial Secrets**: Pleeeeeeeeeease do not throw a porkchop at me! I am terribly sorry about this! And I made most of that up out of my head, having never read Kay. I just threw a few details I have randomly picked up into a cohesive order. And if you figure out how to fly, you've got to teach me too. Please? When I start a random fic I promise you can have a cameo.

**Draegonfire: **Thank you, but yet again I have practically no background on the subject. And I'm sorry I forgot to run this chapter by you first! GAH! Bad Authoress! smacks self

**GeekyAnnie**: Oy, sheesh, don't get snippy with me lol! Here ya go...

* * *

Fluff and Nonsense

"Monsieur Tallis?" Meg walked into the parlor rather timidly; the Persian had always been a great source of fright for the ballet rats, almost as much as the Opera Ghost. But seeing him sitting neatly in a chair with a glass of fine wine was slightly shocking, for his turban didn't seem to quite fit in with the modestly refined surroundings. "Would it disturb you greatly if I asked you a question?"

Kahveh huffed. "Seeing as that in itself was a question and I have not flown to pieces, I would suspect that the answer would be no. But who's to say, really? It all depends on the question. You could ask me about the weather, and that would not be a distressing situation. Or you could ask me about other things, for example, what I did before I came here. That would be quite uncomfortable, however, so I would ask you to refrain from such a--."

"Certainly, monsieur, I will not ask such a thing. I only wish to know what happened to my dear friend, Christine." Meg had begun her inquiry with a logical fashion in mind, but as she began to think of the possibilities, the young ballerina became more anxious about what exactly happened to her foster sister. "Why is Raoul unconscious, and in such a state? Is Christine alright, has she escaped, or has that horrid corpse taken her with him forever? Will I see her again? What happened? Where is--?"

"ENOUGH, CHILD!" That many questions were far beyond Kahveh's capacity for comprehension, and many were of such sensitive nature that he was rather flustered by the time he cut her off. "Christine is safe, you will see her again most likely, and le Vicomte de Chagny is in such a state because he attacked the Phantom, but he will live. Does that calm that insatiable curiosity of yours sufficiently that you could leave me alone for a bit, mademoiselle?" He raised a rather hairy eyebrow at Meg.

Frightened by the outburst, although not very sure why, Meg hastily retreated towards the doorway. "You have my apologies, monsieur, I did not mean to anger you so, my mother simply ordered me to come question you about what had happened, she said you could use disturbance. I'm simply following orders." So saying, she trotted off back toward the room where her mother was tending Raoul's body.

_What a terribly timid creature she is, _Kahveh wondered, _and yet she is so blunt and forthright in her speech. Such contradictions, its very curious. _Deciding analyzing Meg Giry's personality would be too much for so late at night, the Persian pushed it out of his mind and returned to his drink, hoping all was going well five cellars down.

XXXXX

Some time later Christine awakened abruptly from the dream she was having. It had been terrible; Raoul had threatened to kill her if she didn't marry him, and Erik had stood by, incapacitated by his injury and unable to help her. Raoul was charging toward her with his sword, ready to run her through, when she was jostled awake by the Phantom.

She turned toward Erik, expecting to see him awake. Instead she saw the face of a man tortured by his past, even in his sleep. Hurrying from the room, Christine went to fetch a cool cloth for his forehead, fearing that the nightmares were brought on by fever.

Returning, she knelt beside the swan bed in the Louis-Philippe room and placed the cloth on Erik's face gently. "Please, Lord, be merciful, let him be healed," she prayed fervently. Christine leaned over Erik to pull the covers back over him, and noticed that she still wore the ruined wedding gown. _I should probably change out of this. _She walked with the grace of an angel toward the grand armoire.

The wardrobe was ornate; beautifully carved of mahogany to match the bed. On the doors were brass pulls, elaborately molded with crystal accents. Christine grasped them almost reverently, afraid to touch them lest she mar their perfection. Slowly she opened the heavy doors, revealing an array of gowns more beautiful than any empress could have owned. Amethyst, coral, sapphire, crimson, sage, gold, silver, and every other lovely color in creation was displayed among the garments in that wardrobe. She had never seen such gorgeous possessions in her life! Even in the costume room of the Opera, where there were treasures enough to delight every woman's heart, the glamour found there was nothing compared to what Christine now beheld. There were outfits for all occasions: ball and dinner gowns, morning dresses and capes, sleepwear—why even her lingerie was provided for! Making a mental note to thank Erik profusely for this when he awoke later, Christine pulled a silky beige nightgown gently out of the mass, and immediately found it was accompanied by an ivory dressing gown and the softest suede slippers in Paris. Hastily she pulled the wedding dress off, leaving it in a lump by her feet, too eager to feel the fine material of the nightgown against her skin to care about it. As she reached to undo her corset, she halted and spun around, hearing a yell from across the room.

"Christine!" she heard Erik cry out in anguish. She rushed over to him in her chemise and corset. "Erik?" she inquired.

"No!" He tossed and turned, restless from his emotion. "Christine!"

The soprano reached for his hands, which were flailing about, and held them tightly over her heart. "Hush Erik, I'm here, be still." Immediately she felt him relax, his face became less contorted, he stopped moving so wildly, and her name passed from his lips once more, this time as a peaceful sigh. "Christine…"

"Yes, my love, its alright," she said before slipping her hands from his grasp and going back to her toilette. After fighting with her corset for nearly a quarter of an hour, turning this way and that trying to reach the ties and wriggling to get out of it, Christine finally slid the nightgown over her head, pleasantly surprised to find it lined with flannel to take off the chill. Then she walked over to the bed and, taking off the slippers and dressing gown, made herself comfortable at Erik's side. No more than a minute later, she was asleep, creating a picture of fairy tales: the demon of music with his angel of song, together in perfect harmony.

XXXXX

The managers were most distraught. They had lost their star, the Diva Carlotta, and her replacement all in an hour; and if rumor was true La Sorelli was signing her resignation at that moment, taking her part in the exodus of the Opera Populaire.

"Whatever are we to do, Richard? We have no cast!" Moncharmin was on the verge of an aneurysm with all this excitement.

"But think of the publicity, my friend!" exclaimed the business-minded Richard. "Can't you just see the headlines? 'Opera House Scandal' 'Phantom Kidnaps New Margarita.' Why, the press will be all over this; we will be sold out!"

"We cannot be sold out if we have no opera to sell! And we cannot have a show if we haven't any cast!"

"Oh, fie! Just bring in one of the ballet rats to be the Prima Ballerina, little Giry or whatever her name might be, she shows promise. As for the new Diva, why, we found one in the chorus before! Have tryouts for the lead soprano."

"But—but—oh very well!" Moncharmin acquiesced. "But I refuse to take responsibility if our Ghost finds these replacements inadequate!"

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Under normal circumstances, I would request a bunch of reviews, but I hardly expect anything from this piece of crap. Death threats expected, criticism welcome, and if anybody has any idea what the heck I should do next, feel free to write me suggestions, because I'm all out.


	10. Awakenings

I HAVE RETURNED! really, i'm so sorry it took me this long, and i've discovered it actually hurts my review numbers more than anything. Did you know that although i have **18** people who have me on their alert lists, I only got **9** review on my last chapter, and about a third of those do not even have me on their alerts! It's shameful! I really hope you people will review--YOU TOO YOU LURKERS WHO NEVER REVIEW!--even if you're just telling me that i need to change the way i write to make it better. i do not mind criticism. but if you do like it, that's even more reason to review!

so, anywho, i'm taking two math courses. algebra 2 is too boring so i decided to do geometry also. yes i know i'm an idiot Rita! and i'm working on that humor fic too.

and they won't let me say HI! to al of you on here individually anymore, so I'll just say thank you for the reviews and i'll try to remember to reply!

and now on with the show!

(may i mention that there's a good bit of fluff in this chappie, even tho it took me so long?)

oh yeah, btw: **Disclaimer: I dont own this really at all...but if i did i would be a billionaire!**

ok now you can all go ahead and read

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Awakenings

Meg awoke with a start in her chair by the Vicomte's bed. "Monsieur?" she whispered, wishing she was of the station to call him by his Christian name. "Monsieur, is all well with you?"

Raoul sat bolt upright, oblivious to the pain it caused him. "Christine…Is that you, my love?" His eyes, glassy with fever, looked around the room wildly.

"No, Monsieur, it is only I, Meg Giry," came the reply.

"Where is she? Where is Christine? I must see her!" He said, attempting to rise.

"Monsieur, no, you mustn't! She is alright, you will see her soon," Meg lied, trying to pacify him in his delirium. "You will see Christine soon, but now you must rest, Monsieur." She rose from her chair and tucked the formerly distinguished Vicomte into bed as if he were a small child. As she reached over to dim the lamp, she caught a breath of a song from Raoul's lips.

_"Christine I love you…"_

Meg fled the room, her heart falling to pieces.

XXXXX

Erik rolled over and immediately sensed two things. The first, the most constant companion in his life: pain. It split his chest in two and made him gasp from the feeling. His second sensation was a feeling only found in his dreams; dreams that he believed could never come true: Christine, lying at his side. The Opera Ghost stared in awe at the beautiful creature nestled against him, completely at a loss for words. _"Can it be? Can it be Christine…?"_ he sang softly. _"What a change…it really is a change from where I thought her heart would be. I'd not have thought for one moment that she might choose me…" _Erik broke off from his song as his angel stirred in his arms and he heard her mumbling brokenly in her sleep. "Can I ever escape from that face…in that darkness…can I ever forget…he's in my dreams…" Christine turned in her sleep so that whatever else she might have said became inaudible.

_Why did she stay with me if she finds me so repulsive, then! Her love still belongs to Raoul, obviously, no matter what I try to tell myself, _he thought. Disgusted at his own naïveté, he threw off the plush velvet covers and strode out to the organ. He of all people should know not to be so trusting! How many times had he been betrayed, how many times had he been backstabbed by those he thought were his friends? _But she was different…Christine wasn't—isn't—like that! I'm sure there is a reason…there must be…_ Erik continued playing the instrument as he mulled over these thoughts, composing as he went. Before he was ready to stop though, he began feeling dizzy and stood shakily to go back to the swan bed where he had left Christine sleeping.

Christine whirled when Erik came through the curtained doorway, then rushed to him in concern when she saw how ill he looked. "Erik! You are not in full health, you shouldn't have been up and about, exhausting yourself so soon after your wound!" She gently guided him to the bed and helped him sit down.

Erik looked hard at her when she greeted him. Her worry and compassion looked so genuine…but she was also an actress, it was her life's duty to pose as what she was not. He shook his head as a wave of nausea came over him, trying to fling the unwanted thoughts from his head, when his angel spoke to him.

"Erik…those gowns in the wardrobe…are they for me? They are so beautiful…" Christine asked him, still worried.

"The gowns? Yes, they are for you, Christine. Who else would they be for?" he replied, distracted by the fact that she only stood before him in only her chemise.

Christine looked away, blushing. She was well aware of how little the garment concealed. Embarrassed, she went to pick up her corset from where she had dropped it the previous night. "Erik…would you…?" Christine was feeling uncomfortable beneath the Phantom's unrelenting gaze.

"Would I assist you in getting into that horrid device?" Erik completed her query in a steady voice, though inwardly he was trembling that Christine could really mean for him to touch her in a way only a husband should.

"Yes, please…I can't lace it up myself." She had never been so aware of how nearly helpless she was when it came to getting dressed, and so positioned her corset on her slim frame as best she could and turned around before her face became any redder.

Erik took the laces gently and began threading them through the loops in Christine's corset, his fingers dancing lightly over her back, sending shivers up her spine. "Erik…it must be tighter," Christine said, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.

Redoing the lacings, Erik dropped his lips next to her ear and whispered, "But how are you to breathe, my dear? Surely fashion does not require you to suffocate yourself."

Christine turned and felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her body close to his. "It is no matter, for I can hardly breathe even now. What will the difference be?" She willed herself to look into his fiery eyes, brighter than ever with longing for her.

Pushing all thoughts of self-doubt aside, Erik bent his head and took her mouth with his, pouring all of his love and passion for her into the kiss. His skin tingled as he felt his beloved's hands run up his back, her fingers tangle in his thick hair. Impetuously he moved his hands to her corset and began to undo the laces he had done up just moments before, when Christine pulled away and stilled his hands.

"No…not yet, Erik, not yet. We could hardly earn the Lord's blessing on our union by so blatantly disobeying him..." her voice trailed off as she separated herself from the warmth of the Opera Ghost's very real body.

"I have murdered more times than you could count, Christine. Do you think God Almighty would give me His blessing after what I've done!" He reached for her hand to pull her back to him.

"Erik, please don't!"

The anguish he heard in Christine's angelic voice broke through the Phantom's passion; he let her go and dropped back to the bed. "Because I love you, Christine, but only because I love you. God's blessing, or lack thereof, shall not keep me from you for long, He has no hold on me now that he has left me for dead."

Now dressed fully in a blood-red silk dress, Christine returned to Erik and bent down to kiss him chastely on the cheek. "As I love you, Erik. But that shall not make me betray my Lord, though it is hard." She slipped her fingers from his grasp and went toward the doorway.

"And where are you off to, my dear?" he asked, still uncertain if her "love" for him was an act or not.

"I am still a part of the Opera, Erik. It is my duty to return to rehearsals, and I must also see to the state of Raoul, as well as tell him my choice." The tone of her voice was gentle, but with a subtle reprimand underneath the love. "Will you come with me?"

Erik thought a moment, weighing his protection over her best interest. "No, I don't think I will, my presence will only make things more complicated for you to get back to your normal life."

She nodded her head in thanks. "Thank you, Erik." Then Christine blew him a kiss and left the house by the lake.

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see? nothing really bad happened! and lots of fluff too! so there's no reason for me to get angry reviews other than the ones that are yelling at me for not updating sooner...and i swear, i'm actually already working on my next chapter

oh btw those of you who don't live in the US of A, you're really missing out on some goooooood food at Thanksgiving...


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